An epic train journey from Iran to Pakistan

Taking the train from Zāhedān in Iran to Quetta in Pakistan

Zāhedān is the capital of Iran’s southeast Sistan and Baluchistan province and is located near the tri-point of the borders between Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan. The city is hot, dusty and practically lawless and the only reason to go there is because it is the closest place to the only legal crossing point between Iran and Pakistan at Mirjaveh/Taftan.

I arrived in Zāhedān with my then-girlfriend in May 1995 in order to catch the twice-monthly train to Quetta in Pakistan. Not that many years ago, Zāhedān was called Dozda, which translates as Thieves, and having spent the afternoon of our arrival wandering through its streets, I can tell you it is not the sort of place you want to spend any time in unless you absolutely have to. It was like a scene out of Arabian Nights with shady characters on every street corner watching our every move. It was horrible and we couldn’t wait to leave.

In the morning we made our way to the railway station and boarded the carriage that was to be our home for at least the next 30 hours. Lonely Planet, on their website, describes the train journey from Zāhedān to Quetta as follows:

The long, remote, dusty, sometimes cold and often uncomfortable train trip between Zahedan and Quetta, in Pakistan, is guaranteed to be a story you’ll tell until you die. If you’re someone who enjoys meeting people, isn’t fussed by hardship (carriages are simple with wooden seats and no sleepers) and has plenty of time, you’ll probably enjoy it. If not, take the bus.

I don’t remember there being a bus option but I do remember the train journey being exactly as Lonely Planet described it. Our train carriage was beaten-up at best, there was nowhere to lay down and get some sleep and during the night the temperature dropped and it was freezing cold.

The train to Quetta in Pakistan in March 1995

I also remember making friends, albeit not in the more conventional manner. The train was making one of its frequent stops in the middle of nowhere and for no apparent reason (we weren’t near a station) and so I decided to get off for a bit. As I was about to climb the steps and re-board the train, a Pakistani man stuck his head out of the door and spat a mouthful of phlegm right square into my face. I was a little taken back and a tad pissed off but he was totally mortified by what he had done. It was after all an accident and for the rest of the journey he and his family treated us both like royalty, giving us blankets, food, cups of tea and all sorts of other treats.

Fellow passengers including the one who spat in my face by accident (squatting) on the train to Quetta in Pakistan

As an aside, as soon as we crossed the border into Pakistan, my then girlfriend liberated herself of her black chador and headscarf that she hadn’t taken off for two weeks and much to the amusement of our fellow passengers threw them both out of the train window.

Leaving Zāhedān didn’t mean that the security issues were behind us. Prior to boarding the train, we had heard rumours, confirmed by our fellow passengers, that this route across the Baluchestan desert was notorious for being targeted by bandits. I took the usual precautions (hiding cash in my shoes, stuffing money-belts where the sun don’t shine and that sort of thing) but there was little that could be done if our particular train was raided.

And raided we were but thankfully not by bandits but instead by the Pakistani police. It was like being in a scene from a Western movie. The train was rattling along at its customary 20-30km per hour when out of the blue (well the desert actually), we caught sight of about ten black pickup trucks which sidled up beside us and kept up with us on both sides of the train. It took a while for the train to come to a standstill (why, doing that speed?) and during this interim period everyone bar the two of us went into a frantic panic and started jabbering in Urdu. Then a couple of guys asked us if we would mind saying that we owned the four blue water containers that were on the rack above our head.

We looked up simultaneously. It was only at this point that I first noticed not just the four blue water containers above our heads but dozens more like it crammed into every nook and cranny of the carriage. Even though we had just come from what was probably the drug ‘capital’ of the region, we didn’t give it a moment’s thought and said OK to their request. Looking back, that was an incredibly naive thing to do and I have never done it since but we had become friends with these people and they were asking us to help them out.

As it turned out, the water containers were empty and just, well, water containers and the Pakistani police had instigated their raid because the train was a known means of smuggling water containers from Iran to Pakistan!

Confiscating blue water containers on the train to Quetta in Pakistan

I got talking to one of the police officers, who told me there was a shortage of water containers in Pakistan and good money could be made by smuggling (smuggling – how do you smuggle a water container!) them across the border and selling them on the black market. The police officer didn’t believe for one moment that the four water containers that we dutifully said were ours did in fact belong to us. He did find it amusing though.

The whole raid become farcical. The police would go from one carriage to the next starting at the back of the train and throw the water containers out onto the side of the track to await collection from the pickup trucks. But before the pickup trucks had time to collect them, the passengers would run down, pick up the water containers and take them back onto the train. When they reached the front of the train, the police would then return to the back of the train, board the last carriage and throw the water containers out onto the side of the track once more. The passengers would then … well, you get the picture. This went on for hours and if I didn’t have the photos to prove it, I would be convinced that my memory had started playing tricks on me over the past twenty years and that I had made up the whole story!

The train to Pakistan eventually got going again and we travelled the rest of the way to Quetta without incident, arriving some 40 hours later. Quetta was heaven compared to the train journey and after a hot shower, we went to the best hotel in town, the Serena Inn and gorged on the all-you-can-eat-buffet.

Until we have the opportunity to return to Iran and Pakistan, all I can do is reminisce about my travels there. Read more: Pakistan and Iran.

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Doug

Very interesting and amusing. So, who finally won the tussle over the water containers? Did the police confiscate them or did you and your fellow smugglers manage to retain them?

And I don’t know about British English, but in American English stuffing something “where the sun don’t shine” refers to a very specific part of your anatomy. I’m wondering if you really did stuff your money belts there. If so, ouch.

Thank you Doug, glad you enjoyed it. From memory, I think the police got the better of the day but it took an age and a lot of stick bashing!

The British version of ‘where the sun don’t shine’ is the same as yours and nope, I didn’t really do that. I would have perferred to have lost the content!

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3 years ago

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Fi crowther

My grandpa who was in the Indian Army , taught or trained at the staff college in Quetta in the 1920’s/30’s and learnt Urdu there, ( amongst other places ) but I don’t recall any train or water container stories ! Would plastic have even been around then I wonder .

Very interesting Fiona. I would love to see photos etc one day. Did he ever travel on the Bolan Railway through the Bolan Pass do you know (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bolan_Pass)? When I left Quetta I travelled on the railway Pass as far as Multan. It was a great journey but again not without incident but I am unable to write that story up because I don’t have any photos.

I think it is right to be. I did this trip twenty odd years ago and Pakistan was dodgy back then but dodgy is better than dangerous and many parts of Pakistan are dangerous. If you decide to go, head north to the Hunza Valley, there is less risk up there and besides, it is the most beautiful part of the country.

Thank you for your comment Adam. You are right in what you say, but I seem to have more ‘high risk’ stories about Pakistan than anywhere! It’s a shame Pakistan is not 100% safe at the moment as it is a great country to travel in. Ironically when I was there during the trip mentioned about it was the Sind that was unsafe because of kidnapping but now I think it is considered one of the safer provinces and the Punjab is worse (which used to be OK). We will keep the country on our wish list and see what… Read more »

Love this post. I’m reading Paul Theroux’s “The Great Railway Bazaar” (highly recommended, btw), and this article made me think of that immediately.
As has been commented, it’s a shame that Pakistan is now so off limits for most people, I’d love to go if circumstances were different.

Thank you Fernado and indeed ‘The Great Railway Bazaar’ is a good book. Slightly different, but if you are interested in that part of the world then ‘The Great Game’ by Peter Hopkirk is also a great read. May be we should get a group of like-minded travellers together to go to Pakistan. Safety in numbers and all that!

I realize a couple years have gone by and that the comments section may no longer be operative, but I did this trip in August 1963, and subsequently celebrated my 21 birthday in Ceylon, (now Sri Lanka)……..just wanted to say that conditions obviously improved immeasurably.

That sounds like an epic journey. Would love to have journeyed through that part of the world back. Presumably you started in Europe and made your way overland to India and then down to Sri Lanka. Could you get from India to Sri Lanka without flying back then?

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1 year ago

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Eric

At that time there was a ferry between Dhanushkodi-Talaimannar….went by train from Madras……had my 21st birthday in Colombo.

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1 year ago

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Eric

Repeated myself re birthday, (unfortunately no edit capabilities)…….yes, started in England, went overland to Colombo, stayed a month, bought a black market ticket for a French ship to Singapore, thence Darwin by air…….hitched Darwin-Melbourne.

Sounds like a brilliant adventure! Probably not possible these days though!

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1 year ago

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Archie Bayvel

My journey through Zahidan was in 1958 when it was quite a small town with no sealed roads. The train didn’t come to Zahidan at the time ‘cos of a cholera outbreak so with a German hitch-hiker, Wolfgang Eck (Where are you now, Wolfgang?) walked to the border with Pakistan. We did it at night ‘cos it was cooler (strange -‘I see tonight’s temperature is 1 deg Celsius) and a full moon. We followed the rails for an hour then the track made an alarming sweep to the left; a big, long sweep according to our map. I fancied myself… Read more »

Hi Archie, that’s a great story! Travelling in that manner is a lot harder these days and it sounds like it was an adventure. I also took the Bolan Mail when I left Quetta. I had an incident on that train also, which I intend to write up one of these days. Another thing we have in common is the fact that I have also walked into Pakistan but I did it from China via the Khunjerab Pass. It’s a journey I’ll never forget – you can read about it if you are interested. Thanks for commenting, Mark

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